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Part Fourteen: Chapter 88: Help

Dr. Harleen Quinzel's POV

I looked up at the clock on the wall in my office. Every second that ticks by just brings me closer to my 10:00am session with the Joker. So far, he wasn't living up to his monstrous reputation. I found him to be quite formal and cordial. There was juat this...magnetic aura aroind him. And it drew you in without you even noticing. And his smile...what can I say? Its perfect. I didn't find it to be at all menacing. Not like the pictures of him on TV and the in the newspaper made him look.

At home last night I reviewed his crimes. He's killed so many that they can't even count them. Men, women, and children. The Joker had no prejudices when he killed. I needed to understand it. What did he derive from killing? What thoughts pass through the mind of a murderer? Does he know that what he's doing is wrong? Or does he see no problem with it? Does he feel remorse for anything he's done?

His past psychological assesments revealed nothing. I think he may have lied about half of the things he answered. None of his answers were consistent. His assessment by a Dr. Hugo Strange was interesting. The doctor asked him the same series of questions each day, and each day the answer he gave was different. It was as if the Joker toyed with the doctor. Dr. Hugo Strange was now a patient in this very asylum. They say that the doctor just went crazy. They say it was the Joker's fault.

I pick up his admittance picture and look over his features. I try to imagine what he might have looked like before his accident. How old was he? He had no lines on his face. Nothing suggested that he was aging. He had said that his apperance hid his age. He also said he was twenty oone when he had his accident. Then I remembered him saying that he had been shot four times, one for each year hes been the Joker. So that would mean hes twenty five. I smile and look at the blank by his age. I grab a pen and write unknown.

I look up when I hear a knock on the door. I glance at the clock. It wasn't time for the Joker's session just yet. "Come in," I call out.

The door opens and I see Dr. Arkham. "Good morning Dr. Quinzel," he nods and walks in.

"Good morning," I smile.

"Doctor, I wish to discuss the Joker. Have you got a diagnosis yet?" He looks at me over the top of his glasses.

"I'm getting close," I nod.

"I'm going to be frank with you doctor, It's imperative that you get him started on medication. And then when it doesn't work, because it wont, you can start him on rounds of electro shock therapy," his look turns more serious.

"Shock therapy?" I ask, "Why?"

"Because medication doesn't work on him. The only time we could allow him into general population without casualties or him escaping, was when he was having rounds of the ECT(Electro convulsive therapy)."

My eyes fall down to my desk and I look at the Joker's picture laying there. "I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with that Dr. Arkham," I say.

"Dr. Quinzel, you're new here, you don't know the Joker the way the rest of us do. He may be a sweet kitten one minute and a cold killer the next. Do you have any idea how many of my staff members that man has killed? He's the biggest danger in this hospital. Why do you think we keep him locked up for twenty three hours a day? This isn't up for discussion doctor. Prescribe medication. And I'm two weeks you will out in your file that the patient was unresponsive to medication. Then you will start him on the shock therapy. Do you understand Dr. Quinzel?" He stares at me hard.

I have no choice but to nod, "Yes sir," I softly say.

He leaves and I exhale the breath I had been holding. What was I going to do? I promised him I wouldn't give him shocks. Maybe if I talk to him...maybe if I tell him what Dr. Arkham had planned he will be compliant. If he will behave I might be able to prevent the shock therapy. Maybe I can try a medication that he's never been given before. Maybe if it looks like it's working Dr. Arkham won't insist on the shock therapy.